Raising Up Sister
by Gangsta Videl
Summary: AU Everyone's been on edge since Aya-chan awoke from the coma, especially her brother, considering how it all turned out. What exactly are the limits of brotherly love? No one knows, but it looks like they'll all be tested...


**Raising Up Sister**  
  
A/N: The fun part about me reading a whole bunch of Fear Street books is that I can get more crazy ideas for writing. =D So, I says to my brain, "Can we write a pairing in a story that _doesn't _focus in on the couple?"  
  
Well, I decided to give it a go with the knowledge of what happens to some people with major head trauma. My apologies for ripping Ran's heart out... ::sweatdrop:: So forget everything you know about Glühen and the end of Weiß, and start reading Taber's Cyclopedic Medical Dictionary. It'll help you out a bit, maybe. XD  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own Weiß Kreuz. I do, however, own a white cross, but it doesn't count for much, I'm afraid. And all inspirations for Aya-chan's behavior come directly from my six cousins; Jonathan (4), Andrew (3), Chloe (2), Logan (1), Jesse (4 months), and little Lila (six days!!). Two moms, too; they almost planned those kids, I swear to God... Jonny, Chlo- Chlo, and Jesse belong to one mom, and Andrew, Logie, and Lila to the other.   
  
Raising Up Sister  
  
Prologue: Matchstick Dreams  
  
Like all stories and problems of the world, it had what seemed to be a meaningless, humble beginning. A girl who had slept for two years straight, the girl from the papers that had survived a powerful blast but had suffered serious head trauma and had entered a coma. A coma from which doctors were still uncertain as to whether or not she would wake from.  
  
It began on the cliffside, over looking the museum. Or, to be more correct, the place that had once been the foundation for such a place. Great salty waves crashed over the broken rocks, glass, and bodies---a place of death, really. And for the onlookers, there was no way that the ones they held so dear could have survived.  
  
And so it happened.  
  
The girl's eyelashes fluttered and her eyes opened. Blinking, she looked up and around, visibly dazed and confused.  
  
"You're awake?" a strange voice questioned, a bosomy red-headed female she could not place a name to. The girl made a face and tried to sit up, not understanding why she was in a stranger's car or why she was in a long white gown, face down on this red-head's lap.  
  
"Where am I?" she asked, her voice very small and frightened. Another girl she did not recognise---this one younger, and with twin brown braids--- stepped forward and took her hand, leading her to the rail like a child. It was then that the now-fully awake girl noted how pretty the other girl was, and how her bright eyes seemed to calm when her tears seemed to betray something else.  
  
The brunette's hands gripped on the railing, and she began to speak. "I'm a friend of your brother's," she stated, and mentioned something about him being so brave and courageous. The first girl could only stare, confused and afraid, as this new information rose.  
  
Now frustrated, she stamped her foot on the ground and glowered at the startled brunette and red-headed females. "Where is my brother?" she shouted, her voice cracking with emotion. Again, she stomped her bare foot on the pavement. "I want my brother! I want him now!"  
  
Silence followed, for all of two seconds. The dark-haired girl clenched her fists in anger and squeezed her eyes shut, tears still appearing.  
  
"I hate you!" she yelled at the other two, "I hate you!"  
  
The brunette pouted and tried to run to her and wrap her arms around her, a comforting guesture. "Please, Aya-chan," she begged, the honorific slow to be added. "Don't---don't---"  
  
"I hate you!" the girl yelled again, ripping herself from the girl's hands. "Don't touch me! Don't!" She turned away, crying very loudly at this point. Her own hands were clasped over her ears and she refused to move them.  
  
"Go 'way!" she yelled when Manx, the red-head, tried to move closer. "Hate you!"  
  
The woman stopped in her motions, perplexed, but the youth persisted. Manx would not mention how foolish she believed the brunette to be at this point- --she had risked her life to save this girl, afterall. Let her do as she wanted with that life of hers, so long as no one was hurt.  
  
"Please," the brunette tried again, reaching out to touch the older girl's shoulder. The girl let out a shriek and pulled away, and the brunette iinhaled sharply. Never before had anyone ever reacted that way to her touch, not ever. Her lower lip trembled, and for a moment, she thought she might cry as well. But before another tear could fall, a low voice---one all three women recognised---was heard: "_Aya?"  
_  
The brunette looked up sharply---as did the other girl, her bright blue eyes opening slowly. At the sight of the speaker, she pulled her hands away from her head and ran. The other two watched as a red-haired man clad entirely in black---his right hand gripping his upper left arm as blood trickled between his fingers---limped forward enough for the girl in white to wrap her arms tightly around his neck and bury her face in his shoulder.  
  
For a moment, the male only closed his eyes and winced. Too far away to tell if it was from pain or not, the women watched as he pulled his right hand away from his shoulder and gazed at it from over the girl's shoulder. She had not moved one inch, and they could see very clearly the way he clenched his fist in anguish, several droplets of red falling from his black glove.  
  
Then, to their astonishment, he unclenched his fist and wrapped his arms around the young girl in a tight embrace. Though they did not see it, he too, was shedding tears.  
  
"Shh, shh," he murmured, as he tugged the weepy figure from his body. "Don't cry anymore, please. It's all right now." He tried to smile, his tears fading quickly. The sight of her, his sister, finally awake... It was a miracle.  
  
The only reply she made was to look at him with her tear-stained, reddening eyes, and to bury her face back into his shoulder, completely oblivious to the grunts of pain he emitted from such an action. Not that he could fault her---it had been so long...  
  
He cast her a sweet smile and tugged her away again, ignoring her short wail of protest.  
  
"I missed you, little sister," he murmured softly, and the breath hiccoughed in her throat. Her pale hands tugged at the sleeve of his coat, a silent beg to be held again, but she froze. Very slowly, she pulled her hands away and looked down at them, gazing in some form of shock at the blood and wet now covering them. And when she looked back up into her brother's kind, smiling face, she saw him groan and fall to his knees before hitting the ground face-first in a dead faint.  
  
And the night rang with the sounds of her screams.

-----

The candles on the dresser cast a faint light throughout the small room. It went without speaking that the male figure in the doorway knew they were a bad idea, but he'd been unable to refuse his sister when she'd looked at him and pleaded. The girl in the bed next to the dresser gave a light sigh and rolled over, her dark hair pulled back into two very loose braids. She looked so peaceful in sleep, so much so that something inside of the male's heart was tearing.  
  
He knew, of course, that those candles would have to be blown out in a moment. He was only watching now to be sure that, not only was the girl really asleep, but that he could remove the small source of light and warmth without upsetting her. There was no way he could ever do anything to make her upset or frustrated now---not after all that had happened between them. The bomb that had left them orphaned had done her more damage than anything he could think of, and he couldn't bear the thought of adding to that horror.  
  
No, he would wait, and when he was positive that it was safe, he would enter in as quietly as he could. He was trained to be silent, afterall--- that was what an assassin had to be if he wanted to live through his mission. And she had been the reason he had taken on such a job, too---to earn the money he'd need to keep her alive and well.  
  
Well. A fine job that had done.  
  
His violet eyes flickered over his sister's sleeping form. In this light, and at this hour, she really did look angelic. It was ironic, then, that she could be that way while he was something of a devil. Poetic, too, but tragic, nonetheless. It wasn't his fault that things had turned out the way they had, but that didn't stop the guilt from nearly swallowing him whole.  
  
The man let out a sigh, and his shoulders slumped. Yes, he could literally count the days since she'd been returned to him in this condition, each one more heart-wrenching than the last. His hand pressed against the back wall in between crayoned drawings of kittens and stick figures and he allowed himself a moment to lean and take a deep breath. His eyes fell closed and he stood there for a moment or so---just a moment too long, really.  
  
"Ran-kun?"  
  
The male looked up sharply, violet eyes coming to rest on the now seated form of a very pouty-looking pig-tailed girl. Again he froze and his mouth opened slightly, his mind racing to come up with an answer for being in her room so late at night. The girl only looked at him with her large, blue eyes, and blinked and waited.  
  
"I... " he began, unsure of what to say. She was still his sister, afterall, and no matter what happened, he was always going to be her older brother. Even if she didn't always see it that way.  
  
"Ran-kun, why're you up so late?" she asked quietly, and the male winced lightly. Ah, so she knew how late it really was. It was progress, but not what he wanted.  
  
He sighed again. The hand he'd placed against the wall moved up to run through his red hair, muted in the candles' light. She'd be upset to hear the reason that he had come in.  
  
When he didn't answer, though, the girl sat up a little straighter and smiled perkily. He noticed that and turned to stare at her and see just why she was so happy now.  
  
"_I_ know why you're in here!" she said at last. She clasped her hands in her lap and let out a giggle, much to her brother's amazement.  
  
"You... do?" he questioned, and she nodded, her eyes very bright now. His hands clenched into fists and he waited, not understanding why she was so happy when she'd fought so hard for the little candles in the first place.  
  
She moved herself up to her knees and held her arms out for balance. The pajama set she was wearing---pink and ruffly---offset her dark hair even more in the pale light. It was just the opposite for him, really---he was still wearing his black jeans and black sleeveless turtleneck, the same as he'd worn into work that day. His fiery hair only seemed to accentuate the paleness of his skin and the onyx color of his clothing of choice, especially when he reached out to spot her.  
  
She smiled her thanks and kept kneeling. He allowed his hands to drop back down to his sides, though a bit slower than usual, perhaps.  
  
"You came in to tuck me in, didn't you?!" she asked excitedly, bouncing up and down on the springy new mattress. The red-head stared at her for a moment and allowed his head to shake and drop, the faint smile on his lips unseen by her eyes. She was so naïvely innocent... He loved that part of her, yet it saddened him, too.  
  
Still, when he looked up at her smiling face, he couldn't help but return the smile as well. That something about her was still right there, just below the surface. She always had been able to make him smile, even as small children.  
  
Small children... indeed.  
  
He touched her shoulder gently, the smile on his face not once diminishing. It had to have been due to the immense training he'd undergone to keep himself straight-faced through any matter, as any good or even halfway decent agent of Kritiker would do.  
  
"Yes, Aya, you figured it out," he said in that same soft, almost condescending tone, and the girl giggled.  
  
"I knew it! I love you, big brother."  
  
The breath hitched in his throat. He looked down upon her slowly, violet eyes glimmering with an unshed emotion. And he knew then, as he looked down at her sweet, smiling face, that he would never grow used to this new ordeal. Not that she even noted his hesitation, of course---being the innocent and now naïve child she was (as much as it hurt to realize that again), she would most likely never again notice his behavior in the slightest.  
  
So very slowly, the man with the crimson-colored hair tucked his younger sibling into her bed for a second time that night. She giggled again---she was always giggling nowadays---and, ever the dutiful brother, he bent and kissed her on the forehead.  
  
"Night night, brother!" she called as he blew out the candles and turned to walk out of the room.  
  
He paused and looked over his shoulder, face stoic as always as he nodded. "Goodnight to you too, Aya."  
  
The door closed behind him, and a second later his hand was pressed upon his forehead and he was leaning against the wall. Thoughts and questions he could neither control nor condone ran through his mind, each more morbid and painful than the last.  
  
His mind thrust him back to the day when agents Manx and Birman had informed him of what was wrong. His sister---his dear, sweet sister---had suffered more damage from Takatori Reiji than anyone could have ever imagined. For the rest of her life, Fujimiya Aya would be unable to comprehend even the most innocently complex situation or question. Her mind, as they explained to his horrified being, was all but gone. She would be a child for the rest of her life... and there was nothing that could be done about it.  
  
The Aya he'd loved was gone. Well, almost gone, really. She was still there and he was still here, only now, he would truly have to care for her all the time. She wouldn't understand---he barely did.  
  
He could almost hear her voice, singing herself to sleep. His eyes closed tightly, and he could feel the raw emotion in his heart twist and jolt. He wasn't certain about how to deal with things now, but he knew he'd have to try.  
  
She needed him to take care of her, afterall. He was her only family, and had fought and killed for her in the past. And she would never know, or realize why. Those were the depths to which he loved her, his only baby sister.  
  
Again, his violet eyes opened. Leaning away from the wall he stood and turned to face the door.  
  
His body turnbed and he stepped down the hallway slowly. As he reached the stairwell, his hand drifted over the lightswitch for the hall, and he stopped all movement. Carefully, he allowed his gaze to drift over to her door and he could feel his shoulders fall as he sighed and gave in once again.  
  
And it was then that Fujimiya Ran repeated, "I miss you, little sister."

-----

-----

A/N: Hello, Ass! Fancy meeting you here! :o No, really. I know I'm taking a lot of liberties and I've all but ripped Ran's nose out through his nostrils. My apologies for that. The dramatic tension will, of course, increase, as I watch too many soap operas and thoroughly enjoy all the sitcoms and series I watch. I'm not too keen on this "CSI: NY," but I might watch an episode or two, just to see if Vermont shows up. =D  
  
Flames will be used to create better chapter titles. I do hope you people enjoy this new fic, as I'm sure I'll have loads more fun writing it... =D  
  
---Gangsta Videl 


End file.
